Exigency
by wolfiction
Summary: Never was good at summaries and sure ain't gonna try now. Itachi x Sakura. Don't forget to leave a review!


**Title: Exigency.**

**Pairing: Itachi x Sakura**

**Rating: M for sexual themes.**

**Exigency: (meaning) Urgent requirements; pressing needs.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto. All rights belong to the respective owners.**

**A/N: Inspired by the song 'Criminal' by Britney Spears. I'd like to thank my wonderful beta Shreds of Serenity. Love you!**

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Need. It can be small, so insignificant that you can brush it aside when needed. It can be huge, pressing and insistent so that you feel as if you are being crushed, threatening to be split you apart by its intensity. It can creep up on you, and before you can fully register, it hits you so hard that you feel winded, the air rushing out of your lungs, leaving you gasping for breath.

Need. For her. The cure, the only one who could satiate – no, he would never be satisfied – quench his burning thirst, for a while at least. For a very little while, before it hooked its vicious claws into him once again, sinking deep into his skin seeping into his soul. His mind, instead of being clouded by the haze of lust, was sharply focused. He sliced through the foliage, like a blade so sharp that it cuts at the slightest touch, barely making a sound.

His destination loomed into view, a dilapidated structure of wood and stone which had been here for heaven knows how long. The door was weathered with age, creating an interesting pattern. Some other time he might've stopped and speculated, but trivial details like these could not bother him right now. A hand – his hand – topped with neatly trimmed fingernails painted with ebony and dotted with stray flecks of crimson, shot out, slamming against the rough surface of the door, throwing it open with such force that for a fraction of a second, he was surprised that it didn't come off its rusty hinges. The sound echoed deafeningly in the silence. He found her at once, his eyes taking in the sight of her as she whipped around, hair flying, his body feeling her anticipation, her scent a unique blend of cherry blossoms and antiseptic, a reminder of who she was…

No, he dared not dwell on it, because if he did, he feared that reality would come crashing down. Instead, he looked at her lithe form. Porcelain skin. Scars. Strength. A shinobi. His for the taking. One moment he was looking at her, taking her in, the next he had her up against the wall. He heard her sharp intake of breath, felt her body tense and then relax, knowing she was calming herself. She did not fear him. She refused to.

They'd done this before, him and her in this room. Sometimes he could remember each and every detail of this room with crystal clarity. The hard, cold, rough floor, covered with leaves and dust and detritus – the traces of their salvation. He could remember the faded, rust-colored bloodstain near the window illuminated by moonlight, making it appear darker than it really was. That stain told an untold story of another time.

He could remember the exact number, shape and length of the scratches on the windowsill, an incomplete kanji painted on the wall in what was once jet black but had now faded to a dull grey, a broken frame with its picture missing, the shards glittering here and there on the floor. Sometimes he could remember all that, and more.

But there were times when he couldn't. All he could remember were the sounds she made, reluctant moans, surprised gasps and sharp breaths, pieces of a beautiful symphony composed for him only and this gave him a satisfaction so deep, it was primal.

He'd recall the feel of her soft skin whispering over his, her body writhing under his in pleasure, on the verge of orgasm. Sometimes he would pull back, teasing; sometimes he would let her go, ramming into her hard, with an abandon, her skin scraping against the floor, knowing she would have bruises the next day. The need which had boiled down to a simmer flared up again, the sensation becoming so acute that his hands on her hips tightened, making her gasp in pain. Her bones felt fragile. Her legs came up wrapping around him with equal force, nestling his painful and rock hard manhood snug against her belly. She was nude save for a pair of panties. His mouth smashed against hers, and the battle began. This battle which took place every time they met here each fighting to come out on top.

Teeth clacked, lips were bruised, hands fumbled to touch everywhere at the same time, bodies pressed up against each other, pulsant. The world ceased to exist; the only thing that mattered was the fight that had to be won, the thirst that needed to be quenched, the hunger that demanded that it be satiated. He plundered her mouth, the taste of her like honey, like heady wine. Moans, gasps and groans bounced off the walls. Nails scraped against his scalp, raked down his back. Lips brushed against his jaw, a lick against his jugular, a quick nip on the hollow of his neck accompanied by a fleeting kiss. The next few moments were a blur of sensations and exploratory touches in silence, which was shattered when the sound of cloth being ripped sliced through the air.

Eyes that were closed shot open. Emerald crashed into obsidian. Time stilled, electricity crackled in the air, filled with the anticipation of what was to come. He shifted and she was ready. He pushed inside, in one fluid motion. It was brutal. It was fast. It was just what she needed. They dared not form words; speak names, dared not shatter this illusion which kept them from coming face to face with reality.

And reality was that they were enemies. She was a ninja tied to her village, anchored by bonds of love and friendship. He was a missing-nin, who had severed those very ties and bonds with the village she held so dear. No, they would not speak. Theirs was an unspoken agreement between them. It would continue until they both were done. He'd come, so would she. They'd pounce on each other, like animals and the fight would begin, no-holds-barred, down and dirty, quick and brutal. She'd come again and so would he, following her into oblivion. For a little while they'll forget. And then they'll be gone, the room the only witness to this clandestine meeting. The same room which would continue to do so until the exigency was extinguished.

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**I'm not sure whether or not I should continue this. Suggestions would be appreciated.**

**Don't forget to review :)**


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